


Bittersweet Memories

by tigmeyers



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-26
Updated: 2013-01-26
Packaged: 2017-11-27 01:33:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/656546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigmeyers/pseuds/tigmeyers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her part of the story was left out, but is now being shared.  Who was the girl that loved Enjolras from afar?  And how did she help the revolution?  One-shot.  Please R/R!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bittersweet Memories

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I do not own any of these characters with the exception to those that I have created. I would also like to point out that I have never read the book (I picked it up, looked at it, laughed, and then set it back on the shelf) but have tried to do some research so that I wasn’t taking complete liberty with the characters. I enjoyed the musical which is what inspired me to write this. I hope you all enjoy!

She could remember with the utmost precision the first time she had ever met him.  Her brother, Joly, had brought a few new friends over to the family home to meet their parents and to convince them that Joly was doing the right thing by joining up in the student revolution.  The handsome young men entered in their best clothes, and Brigitte and her sisters admired them; the younger ones giggling madly but she bit her lip and made eyes at them as her mother had taught her.  But it was in the moment that Enjolras entered at the end of the line that her world was turned upside down.

            He was beautiful with his blonde curls and deep blue eyes, seriousness etched on every corner of his face.  Brigitte found herself fantasizing about making those lines happen due to laughter instead.  She wanted to make him happy with everything that she had.  And she could never recall a time that she had thought that way about anyone before.

            As the men filed through the entrance hall, they would greet the heads of the household before placing a kiss on the hands of each of Joly’s sisters.  Brigitte watched as her sisters’ faces blushed furiously at the attention but it wasn’t her turn until Enjolras placed his lips on her trembling hand.

            “Mademoiselle,” he spoke under his breath.  He did not linger and instead made his way quickly through to the dining room for the dinner that they had been promised.  It did not matter to her, though.  He had seen her face, and so therefore he knew that she was a living, breathing being.  She would have time to make him trust her, open up to her, love her.

 

            Meal times were Brigitte’s favorite because she was able to listen as the men would lovingly discuss their beliefs in a revolution that would, in their minds, lead to a liberation for the suffering souls of France.  She also loved being able to look upon Enjolras’ beautiful face without worry that someone may draw attention to it.

            While at dinner one night, Enjolras was in spectacular form.  His food had been barely touched before the master of the house had questioned his belief in a democratic form of government for a new France.

            “Monsieur, I beseech that you please listen to the truths I speak and stand up for an equal France!  Joly has taken that step, and I consider him one of my greatest men.  Won’t you join your son?”

            The man looked on the faces of his three daughters, two of whom kept their eyes fixated on their meals.  It was only Brigitte who dared to look back up at him.

            “Enjolras, though I can appreciate your passion for our beloved country, I cannot see myself approving a marriage for any of my daughters with a common man.  I would fear both night and day that they and their children would not survive in a winter such as we are having.”

            Brigitte turned to the younger man and waited in anticipation as to what he would say.  His eyes met hers and she could feel her cheeks turning a pinkish hue.

            “How do you feel about all of this, mademoiselle?”  His voice was only a whisper, and for a moment she thought that she had imagined him speaking directly to her.

            “The gentleman asked you a question, Brigitte,” her mother encouraged.

            The young woman looked between her parents before turning her attention to the man that haunted her dreams.  “I do not know that you wish to hear what I have to say, Monsieur.”

            “Enjolras, please.”  He licked his lips before sitting up a little straighter.  “And I assure you that I am interested in your opinion.”

            Brigitte finished chewy her piece of chicken.  “Enjolras, then.  I do not discourage your pleading voice for the people of France who do not have one.  But I wonder as to how much you know about them.  _All_ of them.”

            The young man’s brow furrowed.  “What do you mean?”

            Brigitte put her fork down.  “You speak of the poor and lowly, but right here in this very home are those that do not have a voice, that do not have a choice in any matter of their lives.”

            Enjolras chewed this new information over.  “You speak of women, then?”

            She allowed him a small smile.  “Yes, women.  We are raised from the time we are born to believe that we are lesser than men.  We are taught how to create a home, forced to forgo further education, made to strictly become a procreating tool.”

            Her mother gasped and grabbed at her chest but this did not stop Brigitte.

            “Men do not allow us to sit amongst them as they debate politics or read over the newspaper.  Even your poor men that you fight for have more of a voice than I do sitting here in my fancy clothes and eating this meal!  Even if you take up your stance and create a fairer France by having a democratic government, I still would never have a voice because men would never see me fit to do so.  Please, tell me how that is fair?”

            Out of the corner of her eyes, she could see the smirks of the men around her.  That included her father but not her brother.  Joly was embarrassed by his sister’s speech but this would be the only time in which Brigitte could recall her father looking proudly at her.  And though she could relish in the idea, she knew that she needed to keep her eyes on Enjolras and not back down.

            His sapphire eyes bore into hers as he rubbed his chin in thought.  She felt as if her heart may beat out of her chest and land on her plate; she hoped it would so that they would have something else to focus on instead of her brunt words.

            “You are right, mademoiselle.  And if it were up to me, this new government that I look to help create would acknowledge both sexes for what they are worth.”

            Brigitte let out an exasperated sigh before standing up and ridding herself of the napkin on her lap.  “Excuse me.”

            The men stood but Enjolras took it a step further as he followed her.  “Have I upset you?  I would have thought that what I said about equality would have impressed you.”

            “You said that both sexes would be acknowledged for what they are worth.  Have you not heard what I have just told you?  Women are worth nothing unless you speak of running a household or bearing children.  That is not what I want in life!  I want to be able to read Joly’s medical books without hiding it!  I wish for men to ask me of my opinion on all subjects, and to hear what I have to say!  They may not agree with me but they will respect my opinion.”  Her chest heaved from the excitement.  “I do not agree with my father.  I believe that if I were to fall in love with a man of little means, and he I, that we should be able to marry for that reason.  But I do not agree with you, monsieur, because I do not believe that your plan is infallible either.”

            With that Brigitte turned and walked up the stairs to her bedroom, wondering to herself how she possibly could make a man fall in love with her if she was too busy yelling at him.

 

            The thought of running into Enjolras after their heated confrontation terrified Brigitte and so she would do anything in which to avoid him.  She walked in the garden even though her mother scolded her for wondering outside in the cold and she would take her leave to another room if she overheard the men making their way into the room she was located, but mostly she stayed in her room.

            “It seems that you have quite upset Joly’s sister, Enjolras,” she heard Grantaire snicker after two days of the uncomfortable living.  “She will not even stay in the same room as us unless it is for meals.”

            There was a beat of silence before the other man spoke.  “Joly, I did not mean to hurt your sister’s feelings.  I suppose that I should have realized that there were more than just the poor people of France who need us to stand up for them.  I should have thought things through.”

            “It is my sister that should be sorry, Enjolras.  Do not pay attention to her antics,” Joly replied.  Brigitte noted the snap in his words, and sadness snuck into her heart.

            “No, I should apologize.  She was right.  She and your other sisters, as well as those that come after we are gone, deserve to be heard as well.”

            The men moved on, discussing more politics and then taking to their books.  Brigitte decided then that she would seek out Enjolras to apologize so that the household could get back to normalcy.

            She stood in the entranceway of the living room and cleared her throat.  All eyes turned to her and she could see surprise on their faces, with the exception of Grantaire, who just smirked up at her.

            “Excuse me, monsieurs, but may I please speak to you in private, Enjolras?”

            He nodded before placing his book down and walking over to her.  They took their places in the dining room, ironically where the problem had begun.

            “I wanted to apologize to you.  I was wrong to take such a tongue with you, not to mention how strong my opinion was.  It will not happen again, I assure you.”

            Enjolras shook his head.  “It is I who should apologize.”  She tried to stop him but he insisted on continuing.  “I have grown up watching as the poor around me have suffered an unfortunate fate.  I never took the time to look at the people surrounding me and seeing the unfair treatment that my own mother, aunts, and female cousins have had to deal with.  I appreciate your opinion and for sharing it with me.  It is because of you that I can be a better asset to the cause.”

            Brigitte didn’t know how to reply to such kind words without fear of sounding unintelligent.  She nodded her head slightly with a small smile.

            “Are we on good terms once more?” he asked, returning her smile.

            There it was; she had gotten him to smile!  “Yes, of course.”

            And just like that the happy expression was gone.  “I must return to my studies.”  In a flash he was back to his seat in the living area, reading his faithful book, _The Republic_.

 

            Brigitte was walking along in the garden for some fresh air when she heard the breaking of twigs and the crunch of the hard ground.  Turning around, she found herself looking at Jean Prouvaire, one of Joly’s friends.  He gave her a look of embarrassment before casting his eyes downwards.

            “Excuse me, mademoiselle.  I just wondered if you would mind some company as you walk?” he asked.

            “Are you getting cabin fever as well, Jean?”  It was her way of inviting him as well as making him feel comfortable around her.

            He chuckled.  “I suppose you could say that.  And you?”

            Brigitte looked up at the clouds above them.  “Always.”

            They walked along the path as she explained what beauty the garden would behold in the spring and summer.  Her parents held the garden as their crowning achievement, with the exception of Joly, and they would immediately take their guests to see it whenever they came to the house during good weather.

            It amazed Brigitte how a man could listen to a woman go on and on about flowers and statues with such interest and no peep out of him.  Jean was a different sort; she had noted that after a day of the men staying with them.  He respected the females of the house and she had seen him read more than one poetry book.  His eyes were kind, apparently a direct reflection of his soul.

            “What makes you fight for a republic, Jean?”

            He looked surprised by her question.  “Please, call me Jehan.  I would like to think of us as kindred souls,” he started and she grinned up at him.  “I joined Enjolras and your brother in the cause because I have believed in the things they speak of for quite some time.  I want to better the lives of the poor and needy, women, future generations.  I finally found others who wanted the same things that I wanted, and they have turned out to be the greatest friends I could have ever asked for.”

“You mock me?” Brigitte asked, her voice meek.

            Jehan’s eyebrows furrowed together.  He gently took her hand in his and placed a kiss on it.  “Never, mademoiselle.  I’m too taken with you to ever do that.  I’m just happy to have heard a woman stand up for rights that should automatically be hers.  You’re a brave young woman, Brigitte.  I admire you.”

            Her face burned bright and she stared at his boots.  “Thank you, Jehan.”

            “I don’t mean to embarrass you if that is what I have done.”

            “I know.  I am just not used to such kind words.”

            He shook his head.  “I should wish to shower you with words for an eternity.”

            “Jehan—“

            “I understand that we do not really know one another but your beauty and wisdom has captivated me.  I still have my studies to finish, and the fight for an equal France, but if I you would allow me to write to you, I would very much like that.”

            Brigitte delve into the depths of his eyes.  She wanted Enjolras with every inch of her body and soul.  But what if Enjolras had never come to their home?  What if she had never known of his existence?  And he had made it clear on more than one occasion that Patria was his focus, his mistress, his one true love.  Jehan wanted for Brigitte and her future daughters to have their own rights, but he also saw her and thought of her as his future.  Who wouldn’t want for that?

            “You may write to me.  And I will write back.”

            His face broke into a beautiful smile that made Brigitte realize that she had made the correct choice.  He was not Enjolras, but he was Jehan and that was enough for her.

 

            Brigitte was prepared for the day and was walking down the hallway when Joly stopped her and asked her to join him in his room.  She was confused but followed him anyway.  Joly was sharing his bedroom with three others, Feuilly, Courfeyrac, and Lesgle, while the rest of the group took up residence in their guest bedroom.  The men nodded and greeted her before continuing with what they had been doing.

            Joly took a book off of his bed, turning and handing it over to Brigitte.  “I came across this one while I was rearranging my bag.  I will not be using it anytime soon and I know that you like to read about the sciences.”

            She saw from the title of the book and briefly flipping through that it was about the anatomy of the body, certain diseases one might find, and the procedures used to fix them.  Looking up at her older brother, she gave him a dazzling smile.

            “Oh, Joly!  How could I ever thank you enough?”

            He shrugged.  “Knowing that you love it is good enough for me.”  Joly pulled out his handkerchief and wiped at his nose.

            “Getting sick, Joly?” Courfeyac joked.

            “I believe so.  It is probably just another cold.”

            Brigitte rolled her eyes.  “You are _always_ sick, Joly!  Maybe I will find something in here to figure out how to cure you.”

            “Highly unlikely, sister.”

            She stuck her tongue out at him, childish but it reminded them both of years past.  Brigitte took her leave, bouncy down the stairs, greeting her parents and sisters before rushing into the living room where she plopped down on the window seat and cracked open the book.

            She had been so excited and enraptured by the book that she hadn’t noticed Enjolras sitting at the other window seat doing the same until he got up a few hours later.  Gasping under her breath, Brigitte tried to present herself in a more ladylike fashion than a child’s.

            “Monsieur, I apologize for—“

            “For what?” he asked, a certain sparkle in his eyes.

            “I-I’m not quite sure.  Not saying hello?”

            Enjolras gave a chuckle, another blessing given to her.  “Apology accepted, though I am not quite sure I have ever heard an apology like that one before.”

            She bit her lip and nodded, returning to her book.

            “Joly giving away his books?”

            Brigitte was surprised; it was unlike Enjolras to strike up a conversation with her.  “Yes, I suppose you could say that.  He knows that I love to look at his medical books and he said that he would not be using this one any time soon.”

            “Did he now?  Well, that benefits you now, does it not?  I am glad to see that you are able to expand your mind like you have told me you enjoy doing.”

            She glanced up from her book and saw that he meant his words.  “Yes, there are benefits to having a loving brother in medical school.”  She paused.  “I’m trying to figure out why he is so sick so that I can cure him and we can all stop hearing about how he has anything and everything medically wrong with him.”

            This time Enjolras laughed openly.  Brigitte was shocked by the sound of it but found it pleasant, like a warm blanket in the middle of winter.

            “I am sure we would all thank you for that one!”  He looked around the room before saying, “Well, I must go into town.”

            “Oh?  Mother said something to me earlier about needing to go into town for supplies.  Would you like to join us?”

            “I am afraid I will be longer than that.  But thank you for the offer.”

            She nodded, returning to the reading material.  After he had left, the mistress of the house came to fetch Brigitte for the trip into town.  Jehan offered his services so that he could join Brigitte and hopefully gain the support of a possible mother-in-law.

            The carriage took them to their destination but it was up to the trio to manage their way through the crowds.  The women bought enough food that would normally last the household for a month while Jehan happily carried the packages for them.  As they walked closer to the clothing shops, Brigitte spotted Enjolras as he looked closely at a red vest.  She could see that he liked it but he made no notion to buy it after a few moments of dwelling there.

            “You two go on ahead.  I would like to see something before we leave,” Brigitte suggested to her company.

            Jehan and her mother went onto the last food stand as Brigitte made her way over to where Enjolras had just been.  She picked up the vest, inspecting the detail and craftsmanship, before asking the woman selling it how much it was.  Plucking the money from her personal bag, the woman wrapped the vest up for her and Brigitte returned to her company.  They took their goods home, her mother questioning the package but Brigitte casted it off as nothing special.

            Later in the evening, Enjolras returned to the home in enough time for dinner.  After everyone had eaten and dispersed to partake in their evening entertainment, Brigitte asked Enjolras to follow her.  She led him up the stairs and he stopped when she walked into her bedroom.

            “Mademoiselle?”

            She giggled at his expression.  “It’s quite alright.  Just leave the door open.”

            He hesitantly walked through the threshold and stood stiffly as he waited for whatever it was that she wanted.  Brigitte turned around and handed him the paper package.

            “Here, I bought you a gift while we were in town.”

            “I cannot accept this,” he said, pushing the package back at her.

            “You can and you will.  Trust me, a great leader needs to be recognized and I think that this is just the thing.”

            Enjolras looked at her as he pulled at the strings.  When the paper gave way, his eyes widened and he pulled the vest into his hands.

            “How did you—“

            “I saw you looking at it while we were in town.  It is perfect, is it not?  Red is the color when dawn breaks; you are trying to create a new world essentially, so it is a wonderful color for such a cause.  Besides, it will make you stand out like a leader should.  Try it on!”

            He paused for a beat before slipping the vest on.  It fit him like he was the model for it, and Brigitte’s heart skipped a beat; he looked so handsome in it.

            “You have a great eye, Enjolras.  It is as if it was made for you,” she complimented.

            “I truly cannot accept this.”

            “You can and you will.  Let it be a reminder of everything and everyone that you stand up for.  Let them see the soldier of equality that you are, the fighter for France that you claim to be.”

            He nodded at her before taking her hand and blessing it with a kiss.  “Mademoiselle, I will wear it with honor and pride.  Thank you.”

 

            The time came in which the men had to return back to school, and the household was saddened to see them go.  As they had done when the men had arrived, Brigitte and her family lined the entranceway to say their farewells.  She wore her red dress so as to inspire the group for their cause; she had heard as Enjolras explained the reasoning behind his new vest to the men, and the response was encouraging.

            They all kissed the ladies’ hands, Jehan lingering on Brigitte’s just slightly longer than necessary and he handed her a note before leaving.  She hugged her brother, Joly, fiercely, fear coursing through her veins as if it were to be the last time she would see him.  Enjolras was last; he kissed her hand in almost the exact same manner that he had when first arriving.

            “It was a pleasure meeting you, Brigitte.  I will fight for you and all women of France.  Here,” he said, handing her a note.  “Do not read it until the time is right.”

            “How will I know when that is?”

            He gave her a half-smile.  “You just will.  I wish you the very best, mademoiselle.”

            So he was saying a _final_ good-bye then.  Brigitte felt as a piece of her heart broke at the idea. 

            “As to you, monsieur,” she whispered.  They both walked out of the house, the rest of her family watching as the men saddled up.  She imagined that to the outside, she and Enjolras may look like an attractive, matching couple with her dress and his vest.  How ironic that was to her.

            He mounted his horse to join his group.  Joly was finally able to rip himself away from their mother and was the last to prepare for the journey.  Jehan waved to Brigitte before the men rode off.  She waved back before hugging one of the porch poles.  It warmed her heart to see as Enjolras looked back before they turned the corner, giving her one last smile.

 

            Brigitte was walking through the garden, the flowers in full bloom and the birds chirping a wonderful song.  June was always a beautiful month in her eyes and it was because of this garden that she thought that way.  She wished that Jehan was here to see it but his last letter had told her that the battle was soon approaching so they would be in Paris for some time.

            As she continued to enjoy the scenery, she heard a muffled noise behind her.  Turning to see what the commotion was, she found her mother coming towards her, tears streaming down her face.

            “Maman?” she called out, running towards her.  “What is wrong?”

            Her mother shook her head, clutching at her chest and trying to speak but failing.  “Jo—Joly is…Joly is…”

            “Joly is what?”

            “He is dead.”

            Brigitte’s heart stopped.  She had known that the unrest in Paris was getting to be too much and that the student revolution was preparing for battle, but never did the thought cross her mind that she would actually hear those words.

            “What?  But…he cannot be.  He is fine.  There must be a mistake.”

            Once again her mother shook her head.  “We just received word from the police.  They are bringing his body home in a few days.”

            Brigitte found herself in a daze, sitting down on the ground, afraid of it falling out from under her.  “What of the others?”

            “We do not know.  But the reports do not sound promising.”

            Joly was dead.  How was that possible?  What if Jehan was, too?  What if…no, she wouldn’t think of him.  Those men, those young souls that felt so compelled to help those around them, were possibly lying on the Parisian streets dead.  How could this have happened?

            Days stretched into weeks.  Joly was brought home and laid to rest at the edge of the garden under his favorite tree.  Brigitte sent for word on Jean Prouvaire, her fiancée, and discovered that he, too, died in battle.  He was sent to his parents’ home to be buried, and she cried for the loss of such a loving and beautiful person.  Was he scared as he faced death?  Or had he welcome it?

            As time passed, there was a knock at the door.  Brigitte was called to the front room for a visitor.  She found a young man standing next to the fireplace, an unfamiliar face.  He turned as he heard her enter the room and gave her a sad smile.

            “Mademoiselle, my name is Marius Pontmercy.  I was a friend of your brother’s, Jean Prouvaire, and Alexandre Enjolras.”

            Brigitte nodded and asked him to take a seat.

            “I wish that we were meeting on better terms but I was asked before the final battle to give you this.”  The young man handed over a letter along with a package.  She noted that he wore a wedding band.  “He wanted you to have this in case he was killed in the line of duty.”

            A gift from Jehan?  She wondered what it could be.  Opening the letter first, she found that it was actually from Enjolras, telling her that he was once again thankful for her generous gift and support of his cause.  The package held his red vest, the one that she had bought him shortly before the group of men left.  Her fingers danced over the slightly frayed edges from constant wear, and she spotted a dark mark.

            “I apologize.  I tried my best to get the blood out but it had already set in.”

            She nodded, mesmerized by the stain.  It was the only piece of Enjolras that she had left.  Her tears brimmed and she struggled to keep them at bay.  So he really was gone as well as the rest?  Her loss was more than she could bear.

             “Were you there?” she asked Marius.

            “Yes, I was.”

            “And what of the others?”

            He looked to be determining what to say.  “I was the only survivor.  I was taken away from the barricade after I was shot by my wife’s father.  He saved me.”  His silence afterwards said so much more than his words.  “I do not know what else I can say.  I wish I had joined them.”

            Brigitte crossed the space between them to cover his hand with hers.  “No, monsieur.  Be thankful for your life.  I assure you that your wife is.  Enjoy every moment of your life together.  And thank you for this.”

            Marius nodded before bidding her farewell.  Brigitte took her leave to her bedroom, hanging on to the vest for dear life.  She dug around in her chest for the letter that Enjolras had given her before he left months ago.  Sitting on her bed to read it, she used his vest as her anchor and her handkerchief.  After finishing, she wept openly, feeling the weight of her loss from that moment on.

_Brigitte,_

_I wish that I did not have to write you this letter.  I wish that I was courageous and could say this to you myself instead of using a paper and pen.  But I want you to have these words forever so that you may never forget how I feel, how I felt._

_When we first met I felt nothing towards you.  Yes I noted your beauty, but there have been others before you as equally as beautiful.  It was not until I saw how you feel so strongly about your rights that I thought maybe you had something more than all the rest.  Your openness, your intelligence, your courage, and your heart are what drew me to you.  But I never wanted to give you false hope or lose your brother’s trust._

_I would have given you everything if it were meant to be.  I would have fought the good fight and come back for you, even if I was fighting my own man for your hand.  If I had been looking for a wife, someone to share the rest of my life with, it would have been you.  You are exactly what would have given me a happy marriage; I did not realize what I would have wanted in a wife until I met you.  I would have courted you properly, given you the wedding ceremony that you dreamed of, bought you any house you wanted and helped you build a home together.  I would have watched you with wonder and love as you gave me children.  We would have grown old together, enjoying each other’s company and encouraging the education and equality of both sexes.  We would have died together._

_Instead, I am not in this world any longer.  It saddens me to think that this dream of mine will not come true.  But I hope that I have led my men in the good fight and have accomplished what we set out to do in the first place._

_My only regret is not kissing you when you gave me that wonderful vest.  But if I had I know that my Patria would no longer have been my focus, and that was not something I could afford._

_My hope for you is that you find someone who will feel the same way that I feel about you, and will give you the life that I had hoped to give you.  I wish for you to have equality and a voice, but also to run a home and bear children because your heart is too good to not share that._

_Please do not cry for me, or if you do, only for a little while.  Then pick up the pieces and move on.  Live your life for me and for yourself.  Give what I could not._

_Always,_

_Enjolras_

**FIN**

 


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